It Started With A Pinch
by LilyHellsing
Summary: Really, she never had any intention of catching the eye of anyone. She was just another servant, another worker, another background body to keep the place functioning for 'Villains'. It all changed when a domino effect started with a grabby patron and ended with a broken monkey artifact…
1. Chapter 1

Plot: Really, she never had any intention of catching the eye of anyone. She was just another servant, another worker, another background body to keep the place functioning. That was what people like her did with the 'Villains'. If you weren't at least partly off your rocker – and therefore couldn't be called a Villain – but you wanted to make fast, tax-free cash, you'd work behind the scenes for a Villain.

It all changed when a domino effect started with a grabby patron and ended with a broken monkey artifact…

* * *

Penelope was a typical first-generation college student who worked a quasi-typical shit job to put herself through said college. Her hair was usually in a ponytail as it helped with her waitressing job. Her feet constantly ached due to shoes – not the tennis shoes that would have offered comfort, but the "job required" high heels. At least the high heels went along with the "job required" tight, short skirt and sleeveless, low cut shirt.

On the bright side, she didn't sweat as much.

The tips were still hit or miss depending on the night, of course.

And where was this grand dictating café that Penelope worked at? Why, it was a branch off of HenchCo. The official name was "Devil's Tavern" but rarely did it get anyone who didn't have a criminal record. Her boss, the great sexist Jack Hench, prided himself on his loyal customer base.

One might think that serving a bunch of Villains some drinks and food would end in great tips. After all, they were rich, right? They had money to finance their crazy plans – cough, cough, Dr. Drakken – and new toys, so why not tip well? That's what Penelope thought when she took the job. Penelope, who had only ever had a brush up with the law by means of a speeding ticket at the age of sixteen. Penelope, who thought this would be a quick, safe way to make money under the table, away from the tax-inducing Uncle Sam. Penelope, who…well into month seven of this job was beginning to question her decisions.

Could she leave this job now though?

Sure she made more than she normally would have at a normal, lawful diner but it wasn't much. The hours were, for the most part, decent. Though sexist as he was, Hench at least understood and accepted when she needed days/nights off for school. Her rent was paid, food was in her fridge, and her grades were great.

Yet even if she wanted to leave…well…she wasn't so sure she could. See, part of being that background body included the, er, benefits of hearing things. Who would stop talking about their plots and plans just because some nobody took thirty seconds to put your drinks and snacks down? Not them, evidently. So while it wasn't explicitly said, she was fairly sure she couldn't leave anytime soon even if she wanted to.

But again, it wasn't quite a bad thing…so long as she didn't think about the lack of freedom implied. She did rather enjoy some of the regular patrons.

Duff Killigan's accented and passionate rants were always amusing to listen to.

On the nights they had life music, Señior Senior Junior often showed his dancing moves for better or worse. Señior Senior Senior was another that had a pleasant voice when he visited for the calmer brunch days – even when he was irritated with his son, he had the pleasure of reminding Penelope of her late grandfather.

Shego's sass and sarcasm always promised Penelope a good laugh or two back behind the bar. Dr. Drakken…well, aside from his pouts, he was a fairly simple customer. When his, ah, rival Professor Dementor came around, the pair often got into such a loud pissing match that Hench himself would come out to snap at them.

DNAmy was definitely one person who Penelope wished would limit her visits to zero to one time a month. It wasn't that her constant enthusiasm was annoying, but that her sickly sweet tone always made Penelope think that her voice was what the color pink sounded like. Weird, but accurate.

And then there was, of the 'famous Villains' who frequented a good amount, Monkey Fist. She wasn't too sure what to think of him or his monkeys, except that they were oddly clean for primates and simple enough. Bananas all around, and all that jazz. Other than a few growls and snarls he had to his colleagues – particularly DNAmy when he had the bad enough luck to run into her here – he barely spoke. In fact, as Penelope thought about it, he probably hadn't said more than two hundred words to her in the past seven months.

No matter. She didn't care, really. Sure his accent was nice to hear too, but something about his eyes always made her tense near him. And more importantly, as she had noted before, his hench-monkeys were quite clean. That was something to mark to his favor.

The other patrons, both regular and new, were hardly worth paying much attention to. They hardly noticed her other than the usual 'another beer', 'check', and 'send this back to the kitchen'. Why should she note much on them? They were usually the henchmen of Jack Hench, Drakken, or some other Villain. Sometimes there were thieves, assassins-for-hire (wannabe or legit, she wasn't sure), and scammers. The common folk, as she had heard one of the bartenders joke before.

Lo' and behold, however, it was one of these common folk who sent Penelope's life into an irreversible spiral. Given her outfit and, alright, her decent natural looks – she was modest – of course she got compliments. They often came in as catcalls once the patrons drank more and more. She'd get a few winks. Even two or three times before, she had gotten a not-so-subtle suggested deal of exchanging goods.

…

Yeah.

But so far in her seven months there as a model employee, it had all been verbal harassment. Annoying, but she could deal with it. What was the point of telling Jack Hench since he was the one who placed her in such an outfit to begin with? What, did she think he'd toss out the customer? Pfft.

As the story goes, cliché and all, Penelope was having a fairly shitty day. It wasn't the usual run-of-the-mill 'oh, it rained as I walked to class' or 'damn, the 8 AM professor cancelled last minute' after an all-nighter of a term paper. Well, that last part did happen actually. She had only slept – read: napped – for an hour in between her completion of a term paper and arriving to the classroom of her 8 AM class to find it cancelled.

No, things were a bit more interesting than that. From that point, she decided she may as well go print the paper and drop it off at the professor's office before class. So she went to print…only to discover she didn't have enough money. So she went back to her dorm – and oh, was she envious of her roommate sleeping – to get money. When she returned to the library, she realized that the flashdrive that held her term paper…wasn't on her! Worse, her sleep-ridden mind realized, she had left it behind!

A frantic search around the library and staff proved to be worthless. No one had turned in a flashdrive. Some bastard – one of the very few who were up so early – had just scored a free flashdrive with a semester's worth of work on it.

F.u.c.k.

So she had to go back to the dorm – and yes, this time it whipped icy rain around her – to pull up the copy on her computer. Smart her, however, hadn't saved the completed version on her desktop. No, the desktop version offered only 85% of the complete paper. So she fixed that…

Class was at one. She had to skip lunch to finish the paper. Not that she could have eaten anything. She was practically sticking an IV of coffee into her veins anyway. The idea of stomaching food wasn't a pleasant one at that point. So when 12:30 came around, she emailed the paper to herself, went to the library, and printed it. And yes, she was sure she logged out of her email.

The stapler was broken. Okay, that was fine. She'd place it in a folder for the professor. She walked to class, again fighting the wind…and lost about 10 pages of her paper. So back to the library she went.

She was late to class. The professor was upset that she lacked both a staple for her papers – which had droplets of water by the way – and the lack of a folder, which she hadn't had time to get. Berated unfairly, she sat in the back quietly. Her mind, sleep deprived, wondered most of the lecture.

Penelope's plan was to take a nap between the end of this class and her job. Well, the bus to take to her job, that was. Yet Fate disagreed. When she got into her dorm, her roommate was playing music…and clearly had someone in with her. At least one of them was getting laid.

She was certain she'd sleep right through it though, she was so tired. Except…her phone rang. Oh, it was the bank. Her credit card and debit card were cut off due to suspicious activity – about $550 fraud charges to be exact – and she would have new cards within "3-5 business days".

It was Friday.

She was out of cash, save for any tips she got at work.

Greaaaaaat.

A nap never sounded so good. Except her phone rang again. She should have known better just based on today to not answer it. Yet answer it she did. Financial Aid was calling to say that she had missed the next installment of her plan and she would have to pay a late fee. Fabulous.

One hour. She had one hour to sleep. And she would have…had a fire alarm not gone off. Ah, yes, the routine once-a-semester-at-the-most-annoying-time fire alarm checks. An RA knocked at their door. She cursed loudly, put her jacket on, and packed her bags.

Might as well just go to work early.

By the time she arrived, Penelope was frozen over and exhausted. The coffee didn't keep her awake or alert, but it did make her anxious. Oh, the betrayal. Against her better judgement, especially at seeing how many people were at the tables, she took the bartender's 'Six and a Half Energy Drink' and chugged the few ounces.

Her heart started to skip and not to a musical sense.

So by the time she changed into her skimpy outfit, she was pretty much done with today. She was glad that the orders were simple enough. Two hours into her shift, she noticed Duff's voice and…much to her surprise, Monkey Fist's voice sharply pierce the soft live music. When she glanced over, she saw that they were arguing over some sort of small monkey statue that Fist was zealously guarding. Weird. At least someone got a new shiny toy, she thought.

She carried a tray of beers – the fourth round – to the small table near these two. Fist was at his normal table – yes, "his" table – and these henchmen had decided to sit at the mediocre table next to it. Given that most, if not all, of the tables were full, it made sense. As Penelope was setting each beer down, her eyelids heavy, she realized belatedly that one of them had been talking to her.

Ah, these henchmen…they all looked so similar in their uniforms. It didn't help that they were bulky about the same size. Oh, and the beer gut of course. She blinked and looked over, trying to focus. As she was picking up their empty bottles and placing them on the tray, she heard the guy to her left say something off-colored. It was something to the effect of her being a 'hot, tight piece of ass'.

This would have been brushed off as the usual under any other day. Even her shitty day, she would have ignored it. What he did next, however, was distinctly unique and a milestone for the waitress of seven months.

He pinched her ass.

On impulse, on a tired, sluggish brain, on sheer emotion, she reacted.

She swung the tray with three empty bottles on it to her side and CRACK! She smacked it across the man's face. He flew off of his chair that he had been precariously sitting on due to alcohol anyway. Two of the three empty bottles, however, didn't follow his motion. Instead, they flew ever so slightly behind him…and…

CRACK!

The noise wasn't wood against face, it was glass against something very fragile.

She looked up and wished immediately that she hadn't. The statue that Monkey Fist had been holding…was cracked, the bottle shattered like confetti below it. Even the live music stopped playing, emphasizing the noise, the deafening silence afterwards.

Sharply alert now, and with a heartrate jumping from more than just that energy shot, Penelope was keenly aware of how many eyes were on her. More importantly, she was painfully aware of the fury, the absolute unadultered loathing, that Monkey Fist's narrowed eyes emitted as they landed on her.

Forget Jack Hench and her job, Penelope gulped nervously and seriously wondered if her last day on this planet would be spent so poorly…


	2. Chapter 2

Beads of sweat traveled down her neck, defying the otherwise cool air of the Devil's Tavern. Fear had taken over and, to Penelope's shame, her body had taken the 'freeze' aspect of 'freeze, flight, or fight'. Her brain wasn't thinking, or at least she nothing she couldn't grasp. Was it the terror of having damaged Monkey Fist's precious item? Or was it the lack of sleep? Or, although it seemed laughable now, was it the fact that she had struck a patron who had grabby hands?

All of these possibilities still had merit to them, but the reality of why she hadn't – or couldn't even if she had wanted – run was because of her job-required high heels. She blinked and suddenly Monkey Fist had moved. Given his dark attire and the dimly lit environment, it seemed as if he had simply teleported. It was his hand, hot and rough, that grabbed her arm.

When he pulled her in some direction, her feet nearly failed her. To move was a feat in itself, but to move with heels made her stumble and almost trip more than once in their short journey. As she struggled to keep up, a sharp gasp of pain leaving her lips when his grip tightened or her ankle nearly twisted, she had forgotten about the rest of the tavern. Sure people were still looking at her like she was on death row, but she didn't notice. She didn't even notice when his monkeys wrapped themselves protectively around the once-perfect artifact.

The Villain threw a set of doors open and kept dragging her down a hall. Just before they entered another room, Penelope finally realized he had dragged her to Jack Hench's office in the back. To her disappointment, however, he wasn't in it just yet.

With little to no effort, Monkey Fist swung Penelope around and let go of her arm. The surprise round and shove coupled with her already unsure footing sent her stumbling. She hit the wall – there were worse things to flip over – and fell to her knees. Now her legs refused to work. It didn't help that her job-required skirt restricted her movements. At least it didn't rip, she thought faintly.

She looked up at the seething man who towered over her just a foot and a half away. Her head was starting to hurt – was it the excess of caffeine and adrenaline or her ponytail? Something told her that if she didn't talk, and fast, that a headache might be the least of her problem.

At least she wouldn't feel anything if she were dead, another part of her muttered morbidly.

The man's fists were clenched, his nostrils flared, his teeth gritted and bared, and his eyes were wild. Yes, fucking wild. He was very much so like a wild animal. His stance, the tense and slightly shaking with fury frame of his, radiated loathing. When he took half a step forward, Penelope raised her arm – the arm he had escorted her with – as if to shield herself. From the corner of her eye, for she dare not look away from him, she caught coloring on her arm that probably would take form of a handprint.

"I'm sorry!" Her voice cracked. She hadn't used it since class at one that afternoon. Given the cold, the exhaustion, and the work, as well as the recent horrors, her voice was bound to sound shot. Still, it reminded her distinctly of broken glass – oh, the irony. "P-please," she kept on, working for survival by any means. After all, this was a Villain, a man who had doubtlessly killed before. Begging wasn't beneath her. Despite today's shittiness, she still wanted to live. "I-I didn't m-mean to, it, it was an a-a-accident! Th-that man, he…"

Before she could finish her shaky recollection, he moved forward. She blinked and suddenly his fist had made a home into the bit of wall just above and to the left of her head. She let out an embarrassing shriek, curling into herself to protect from any fists or debris. When she realized she wasn't hurt, she looked up slowly.

His fist remained through the wall, allowing him something of a way to lean over gracefully. His other hand remained behind his back. His jaw was still set but his teeth weren't bared now.

Up until now, she hadn't cared how she looked, how she acted. This could very well be a matter of life and death. Now, however, at seeing how well-put and in control his man was, despite his rage, she realized just how much of a mess she must look.

She was shaking all over. No doubt she was as pale as the plaster behind her, with bits of the wall in her hair probably. The scent of fearful sweat – for certain types of sweat stuck far sharper than others – must have drifted off of her. And, to her humiliation, she was aware of how damp her cheeks were; she was crying, albeit quietly.

Yet when she stared into his eyes, which were no more than six inches from her face, she regained a sliver of control. Not control, but…some sort of twisted serenity, a calm. Probably a calm before the storm, sure, but it was something she hadn't felt all day.

His eyes were still wild, still dark, and still full of fury and hatred…but in that animalistic gaze, she caught something deep within, some sort of spark. She didn't know what, but the sliver of calmness encouraged her to think straight for at least two seconds.

If she was going to try and run, assuming he moved away from her soon, she had to take off her high heels. She'd only flip over and probably break her own neck before he could so much as touch her if she tried to run in them. So while their gazes remained locked, her trembling fingertips tried to undo the obscenely small buckle at her ankle that kept her prisoner in her shoes.

And then he spoke.

"Do you have any idea how much that artifact is worth? Or what it can do?" Each word felt like a knife that he was throwing at her, barely missing by an inch from piercing her flesh. She winced at a few of them. His accent, which she had enjoyed hearing over the rare times he spoke in the past seven months, now filled her with ice. It was crisp, severe, and cold.

Penelope felt dizzy. Was it from the man's words or from her excessive caffeine intake? Her throat was dry – again though, from fear or from the accepted drug? So instead of answering, she shook her head. That was a worse idea though, the dizziness hitting her with a force. Had she not been against the wall, she may have fallen over. As it were, she just saw two of Monkey Fist – twice as horrific.

Click. One of her shoes were undone. Now if she could get the other one…

Monkey Fist removed his hand from the wall and did something that made her jump. He grabbed both of her shoulders no tighter than he had her arm, promising bruises and sore muscles later. It wasn't out of anger this time, no, but…from pure frustration and disappointment. He shook her slightly, kneeling before her to do so, as he let out a howl of near-tangible longing, "I could have finally become something! I could have defeated Kim Possible with that! It was the last of its kind, over three thousand years old! How could you be so careless, you stupid girl?!" A sharp squeak left her as his fingertips applied more pressure at the question.

Before she could fathom a response, the door swung open. The familiar voice of her boss rang out, "Why, Monkey Fist, to what do we owe the pleasure?" He wasn't smiling although his words might suggest it, the slick bastard he was. Rather, he was frowning and glaring in such a way at the pair that it was obvious he knew what had happened. He shut the door behind him.

Monkey Fist released Penelope, stood, and spun around, renewing his fury to replace the crushing distress he had just displayed. As he started to explain how his best waitress – at any other time, Penelope would have taken pleasure in this – destroyed his latest artifact and best chance of success, the girl on the floor undid her other shoe buckle. She slid the shoes off silently.

Jack Hench's eyes moved from one of his best customers to Penelope, too far away to be read. "Why did you strike a customer and destroy his artifact?" It was a simple question that required a simple answer. Would it excuse anything? She had her doubts.

Still, though trembling, she tried to focus on her righteous outrage of the sexual harassment that unknown henchman had done. "That henchman pinched me!" Her voice wasn't quite as strong as she had wanted, but it was louder than before and lacked any tremble. She stood on uncertain legs, drawing on that outrage further; to be kneeling with two towering figures around her wasn't a pleasant idea. When Hench only raised a brow, clearly having not been told the specifics, she felt her pale skin flare up hot. This was when she faltered slightly. "He pinched my…bottom."

She thought she saw Monkey Fist's hand flex for a moment. If he had been displeased for her, his own lost property triumphed. "And who is going to replace a priceless artifact?!" He snapped, glaring at Hench. After all, she was his employee.

Penelope leaned against the wall, another wave of dizziness hitting her. Her heart was still racing, skipping at random intervals. It was starting to make her sick. More so, she wondered if it was possible to die from an overdose of caffeine. At least that would stop them from killing her – ironic that it would be at her own hand, in a sense, though unintentional. In any case, the idea of running was quickly shot down.

"And how much was it worth?" Hench asked casually as he made his way to his desk. It was doubtful that he'd pay for it, but perhaps he was buying time. More so, how would Penelope pay for it? That was his best chance of defeating that red head teen, she thought, so what was that alone worth even without the ancient artifact?

"More than your company twice over." The snobby British tone rang out.

Hench looked at his waitress, his eyes flickering briefly to the hole in the wall. His lips thinned. Then he smiled and shrugged. "Take the girl then."

"What?!" Penelope croaked out. This had to be a nightmare, she decided. When Monkey Fist's dark, intense eyes landed on her, she shrunk a bit. Her heart, if possible, raced quicker now. It might jump out of her chest. But no, this all had to be a nightmare; she had to be napping still at her dorm. This couldn't be real – he couldn't be actually considering it! Given her attire, her mind immediately jumped to conclusions as to why. "No! I'm a human being and slavery is illegal!"

"It isn't slavery," Hench continued smoothly, trying to persuade Monkey Fist, "but working until you repay the damages. Whatever that is." Actually that sounded similar to indentured servitude and that was also illegal. "Anyway," he looked at his customer, "as you said, she _is_ my best waitress. Hard worker, quick learner, how can you say no?"

" _I'm_ saying no!" Penelope protested loudly, causing the pair to grimace at her shriek.

"Keep your mouth shut, girlie." Hench tried to order.

"Bite me!" The surge of power, of 'flight' she had been wanting finally came. She kicked one of the high heels towards him and another towards Monkey Fist – whether they hit their target or not was unlikely. It was meant to provide a distraction, however, which allowed her to run towards the door.

Unfortunately, she was up against a monkey master of Tai Shing Pek Kwar. A shoe wouldn't phase him. Just as she got past him, he reached out and wrapped an arm around her waist. Her outstretched hand nearly touched the door, her fingertips cruelly brushing against the cool doorknob. Then she was pulled back and she tried to fight back, flailing with elbows and kicks and all.

His other arm wrapped around her own, pinning it there. Just as he made to trap the other arm, something happened. It was no doubt a mixture of an emotional roller coaster, an excess of caffeine, and exhaustion from the past 48 hours. Her body shut down against her mind's better judgement.

As she lost consciousness, she was faintly aware of the last thought her treacherous mind had: Monkey Fist was solid.


	3. Chapter 3

Penelope was the oldest female among her siblings. The oldest was her brother, Aaron, by a year. In order after her was Michelle (two years younger), Priscilla (three years younger), and Henry (five years younger).

As a result from this, she was often competing against Aaron, looked up to by the younger siblings, and, to her parents, violently rebelling against the typical female stereotype. While her brother had found a job right out of high school and only climbed higher in it, Penelope had decided to go a different route.

She didn't want to just jump into the work field and take the first thing that took her – especially if it was poor hours and even poorer pay. She didn't want to be on the hunt for a husband only to marry and have several kids. No, she wanted to travel the world. She wanted to have a good paying job, one that didn't force her to decide between A and B because her paycheck was limited.

So Penelope went to college for a Bachelor's in Accounting.

Did she like numbers? Eh, they were alright. Did she find the rules interesting? Not really, but they weren't as confusing as she first thought they might be. Did she fantasy about having a cubicle for her job? Not…at all, actually, she rather disliked the idea. The pay, however, would make it all worthwhile.

Her parents had been reluctant to support her in this decision. They may have outright rejected it if it wasn't ironically for her brother – he had found a girlfriend-soon-turned-wife the same year she started. With that distraction and with the clarification that they honestly couldn't help out financially, they reluctantly supported her in her adventure.

"Adventure", right. No, this was more of an experiment, her ability to go to college and get a successful job and have a successful life and…yeah. Her siblings were watching as well. Could she go to college, have a part-time job to support most of her expenses, and take out just enough loans in order to get a well-paying job and live happily? Even she wasn't entirely confident about that.

Of course there was the expectation from her mother that she would still find a husband – even more successful than her, as it goes – and have kids, but first Penelope was focused on college. And while she had taken out loans just enough to cover tuition, she still had to get a job – the Devil's Tavern – to pay for rent and bills. Not that her parents or half her siblings needed to know about that little detail, the place she was working at.

Henry and 'Cilla knew, but that was due to them being sneaky, snooping siblings. They promised not to say anything though. Penelope knew Henry was hoping to try college too and while 'Cilla had her attention primarily on hair, she knew her sister wanted more than what was expected from them.

So it wasn't just Penelope's future on the line here, but others. As a role model, she was to be held in high esteem. Not that she…really wanted that kind of pressure, but there it was. So she chose the path she knew was more likely to pay more and be successful: accounting. If she had to be honest, she would admit that she wanted to major in…

Well, that didn't matter, did it?

Because Penelope's end goal for college was to be successful. She needed a secure job afterwards. Anything else, any other passion or hope was just…a dream.

* * *

She woke.

Her shoulders ached far worse than her arm did. So much so, in fact, that that was probably what woke her up from trying to move in her sleep. A sharp hiss left her just before her eyes opened. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room. It was…small and nearly empty.

Penelope made to push herself up when her shoulders protested sharply. A louder gasp left her this time as she became re-acquainted with the floor. No, not the floor, but with a pallet of blankets that she was lying on. She tried to remember what had happened, where she might be.

Her hair was down from her ponytail. Had she done that? Where was this minimalist place? There was a window with a poor curtain across it, rays of light suggesting either dusk or dawn. If it was dusk, she had to go to work befo-…

And so Penelope remembered everything from earlier.

This time, she carefully sat up and looked around. As she pushed aside the thin blanket, noting how she was still in her waitressing outfit, she heard a noise. Penelope looked up, tense, and saw a…monkey in ninja attire. She blinked, unsure if this was good or bad.

The monkey chattered something. She tilted her head. The monkey tried again. How long would this cycle keep on? When the monkey pointed to something next to Penelope, it was clear the monkey had understood the futility of talking as well. The girl glanced over and saw her scrunchie. That explained the lack of ponytail. Now her hair was down, wild from nature and from the 'adventure', brushing her mid-back. She felt…odd, almost naked, so she put her hair back up in a ponytail. Her shoulders hurt when she did, drawing a curse or three from her.

The monkey guide gestured for her to follow. Reluctantly, she stood and followed on the rough wooden floor, barefoot. Not that she'd be sad if she didn't have those damn high heels anymore. As she started to walk through a long hall, her stomach churned. What time was it? Where was she? Clearly she was with…

She froze at the doorway she had turned into. It was a room with a bit of furniture, old and worn, but the curtains were open. Before the window of the sunrise – yes, she had somehow slept through the night – stood Monkey Fist. He was facing her, his facial expression stern and his hands behind his back. His eyes, though not longer hot with hatred, were intense and dark enough to make Penelope's heart quicken.

As if recalling the memory caused it all to happen once more, her shoulders and her arm ached. She knew without looking that they were bruised. At least, she thought faintly, she wasn't a sobbing, shaking mess this time. Well, not yet at least.

Still, she wasn't quite sure what to say. Perhaps it still felt like a dream. Maybe she was still fully waking into consciousness, into reality that…that he had kidnapped her. And she was alone with him – monkeys not counted – as his captive. Perhaps it was best to stay in this foggy state before the reality-crashing realization.

Monkey Fist's eyes lowered over her, pausing midway. Then he did something that she hadn't seen or heard before. His stance shifted and he cleared his throat. "I apologize for my…rough handling yesterday. I did not intend to create such lasting marks." It took Penelope a moment to grasp he was referring to the bruises. More so, it took another moment for her to realize he felt awkward – remorseful? – about it!

Her lips parted but no words left her. She was still trying to gauge how real this all was. To be honest, the words from his lips weren't at all what she was expecting either. Rather, she had expected something more…foul and…harsh.

When she tried to speak again, the words she spoke weren't intended initially. "It'll be hard to hide my arm at work. " Her voice was cracked, her throat parched. She was suddenly aware of how hungry and thirsty she was. As she lacked the adrenaline rush of an angry Villain coming at her, she was annoyingly aware of her bodily needs.

Immediately after that, however, she realized just how ridiculous her response had been. She was still in shock, yes, that was it. It didn't help that her shoulders and her arm were aching. Her mind was…well, wrapped in that which was shock of events and of body.

Monkey Fist must have caught on as well because he didn't even raise an eyebrow. Instead he nodded. She noticed his hands were before him, tucked into his sleeves like a Chinese finger trap. "Your new job does not require a uniform; therefore, you'll be able to dress as you please."

A couple of birds were whistling in the distance. Slowly, oh so slowly, Penelope's otherwise sharp mind started to turn and work once more. She felt her stomach start to churn. "My…new job?" The confused calmness started to turn into a bubbling panic. "Doing…what?"

Monkey Fist didn't bat an eyelash. "Acting as my assistant, of course." The hesitant remorse in his tone switched to the usual haughty, demanding tone that most Villains had. His concern for his prisoner's wellbeing had withered away once he brought up the origin for all of this. "Hench may be a bastard, but he had the right idea. You broke my precious artifact, therefore you'll repay your priceless debt by helping me locate another one."

Penelope took a deep breath although it only made her more aware of how her limbs were starting to tremble. "I'll be…helping you find…a similar…thing…between, like, my classes…right?" A volunteer job, she thought, just a volunteer job that she was obligated to go to between class, family, and friends. Yes, of course…

"If this hunt went based off of your class schedule – as I believe you are out of a job at Hench's – then it would take three times as long. No, in the interest of both parties involved, and in particular for my patience and nerve, you'll be staying with me until we locate another one." Monkey Fist pointed out dryly.

Her heart skipped a beat. She was keenly aware of how sweaty she had gotten. "B-but, you said, you said there…that it was the last one of its kind or, or something!" Her eyes started to sting, a telltale warning of tears.

The man's lips twitched at this, probably in annoyance. "There is another one similar enough. I've narrowed the location down to four areas of China."

A near-hysterical, pained laugh left Penelope. "China?!" Travel was indeed something she wanted, just…not like this. "No, no, you, you're mistaken. I have homework, I have tests coming up – I have a paper that's due in two days! Not to mention my, my family and my friends, they'll worry about me." She wiped at her eyes, getting rid of the tears that started to slide down her face. "No, I must go home. Now." She exhaled shakily as though she had just made a final decision. Well, she did, but it wasn't her decision to make.

Monkey Fist didn't seem to notice her near meltdown just now. Instead he let his hands fall to his side and snorted, "You worked at a Villains' Tavern without a contingency plan?"

The casualness of his words made Penelope snap, her voice raised, "I never planned on being kidnapped!" She was shaking and while she wasn't crying, she was struggling to catch her breath as if she were sobbing. Her hands reached up and covered her face, trying to bring back some sense of control.

His monkeys chattered at him, not that she could understand anything. Whatever they said, however, caused Monkey Fist to grumble and clear his throat. Penelope looked up, fearing on some level that he might step closer for some reason or another, and fell silent when she saw his eyes. They were distinctly softer than before, though with what she couldn't be sure. His lips were thinned, his jaw set, and he was clearly uncomfortable by how he shifted his stance. His gaze, however, calmed her.

The monkey ninja that had escorted her here tsked at her master, telling him who knew what. Fist sighed and rolled his eyes, relenting. "We will…work something out in regards to your education and family relations." He paused. "It'll be easier and cheaper to travel with you in tow if there isn't a Missings report out." No doubt that meant less bribing officials.

Penelope wasn't sure what to say or do. Before she could think past that, and probably break her delicate calm, he added, "Miffy will take you back to your room for the time being. She'll also bring your food and water. Until then." And as if she were a servant to be dismissed, he turned his back from her.

* * *

A/N: Not sure if I'll be continuing this.


	4. Chapter 4

Penelope wasn't a virgin.

Not that her family needed to know that, of course. Ah, the warning tales of college life. Much to her wounded pride, however, Penelope could say that she did _not_ lose her virginity to some drunken frat boy. Both her ex-boyfriend and herself were quite sober at the time, thanks much.

She didn't regret it though, not even when they broke up a few weeks later. They had been dating since Orientation and, truthfully, both felt a love that was real for the moment. She wanted to have sex. He wanted to have sex. So they did…it wasn't bad.

Of course she didn't want her family to find out. If they did, they'd generalize and assume that college made everyone sinners and wild and irresponsible and…so on. Not that, as she reflected, getting married just to have sex was any better. If anything, that was more irresponsible, to be tethered to someone legally just to have fun. And worse if you realize you made a mistake…

They had taken precautions – again, very responsible of her. Condoms and all. Both immediately after the act and the day after, Penelope had felt…disoriented. No, not quite disoriented; she had felt different, odd. She felt like she had been in a dream, processing it all.

Which is, as funny as it sounded, how she felt now in that small, minimalist room of a shabby hideout. She wasn't quite sure any of this was real. She wasn't sure it had happened. And yet there she was in a room with a monkey ninja bringing food.

She thanked the monkey and blinked when it - she? - nodded, as if she understood Penelope. Well, she may very well. What was the name...Miffy? Muffy? No, Miffy.

Left alone once more, the girl looked over the meal. Bread, hard cheese, and a banana with a water bottle - a banana. Despite herself, she snorted softly. How typical. With nothing else to do for the moment, Penelope ate slowly. What was she to do?

If she tried to escape, as they were on the ground floor, she doubted she knew where they were. She would get lost or, more appropriately, get eaten by a wild animal. Who knew how far or close they were to the nearest civilized town?

Could she try to run off once they got to said town? She suspected she'd be on lockdown, guarded by...monkey ninjas. And the very idea of trying to run off when she was in China was laughable. With her luck, she'd get caught by the wrong people and get sold into who-knew-what. She had no money or way to find her way home after that.

Could she beg and plead with Monkey Fist? No, she knew the Villain was as hard as that statue she had broken. Well, that hinted that he could break a bit, but she had a sneaking suspicion that his 'breaking' was what she had just witnessed. With the help of his monkeys sympathies for her, he had allowed her to continue her life in a quasi-manner. At least, he said so. Doing so, however, hadn't happened yet…

Did she dare tell her parents, her friends, that she was kidnapped? No, they had no way to find her. The cops were worthless. Even Kim Possible...well. Actually...that might...that might be an option. But how to contact the girl without making her friends and family worry sick?

Until she figured out an answer, Penelope thought that she might have to just...go along with this madness. So when the door opened once more, Penelope didn't bother moving from her seated position on the hard floor. The empty plate and bottle were set aside and her gaze lingered on the window across the way. She had, in all honesty, figured it was just Miffy...Muffy...returning.

When she heard a distinctly human male clearing of the throat, however, she jumped and stood. Color flooded her face. While she was still in the skirt, she had sat in a comfortable and...not quite lady-like position. Monkey Fist stood a couple of feet from her, his shoulders hunched, his jaw set, and his eyes sharp despite his uncomfortable body language.

The two stared at each other for a moment longer before he spoke. "We will leave in two hours time. At our next destination, you may contact your university and social circle to check in - any sign of a hidden message for help and I'll…" Even the start of the threat had sent her skin to a porcelain-pale again. Monkey Fist gritted his teeth and clenched his fists before placing them behind his back. His gaze flickered to the window. "Honestly, girl, if you're so faint-hearted, why did you take the job at the Tavern?"

Given the fact that he had grumbled such words, Penelope assumed it was a rhetorical question. Something in her sparked though in annoyance at this though. It encouraged her to speak, perhaps not quite as sharply as she liked, but her voice was stable. "I needed the money - isn't that everyone's reason for something?" His blue eyes transferred from the outside world to her, clear and studying her closely. Warmth traveled up her neck. His gaze was piercing. Still, she didn't look away. "...I rarely interacted with any Villain past an order." She added.

Monkey Fist shifted his feet after a moment, perhaps recalling his few interactions with her before now. He nodded. "Well, in any case. I expect your full obedience otherwise there will be consequences for any willful behavior."

She nodded once, shifting her stance as well. As he turned to leave, a strange noise left her lips. When he turned with a brow raised, she colored deeply and tried again. "I-I was...wondering if it...if I could have different clothes...to wear." The exposing outfit wasn't quite suited for the life ahead of her. Plus, it made her feel...well, vulnerable before the man. It was bad enough she was in his place, on his turf, in his world...but this just made it worse.

Monkey Fist's gaze dipped to her chest before meeting her eyes once more. She gritted her teeth, pleasantly irked more so than embarrassed by that. And to think, she inwardly sighed, this all started with a disgusting henchman's pinch.

"I'll see what I can find." He responded before leaving her in peace. Well, she thought as she walked over to the window, that went better than before. At least he had kept his distance physically.

Travel...where would they travel to first?

Better yet, what would she tell her friends, family, and professors to buy her time?

Penelope sighed and rest her head against the ledge of the window. This was going to be a long adventure. Hopefully, she pessimistically added, she lived to tell the tale afterwards.


	5. Chapter 5

Every city has a gang or two. Depending on the area of the city, this fact may be forgotten by some; it may also be vividly true in other places. Penelope lived in the gray area where it was seen mostly on the news, but occasionally in real life.

It wasn't uncommon to see folk wearing certain signs, certain colors when one walked the mall. It wasn't unnatural to pass someone on the sidewalk who happened to have a certain tattoo. It wasn't abnormal, as a female, to hear remarks from these individuals regarding their appreciation of the female form - Penelope's female form, to be specific.

This happened at least once a month or so as she traveled between her house and her job during high school at the mall. She had lucked out and got a job at some clothes retail place which gave her plenty of hours, much to the pleasure of her sore feet, and decent pay, to her wallet's joy. The mall just so happened to be the place where the two gangs of the city visited occasionally.

Luckily there was never any violence near Penelope. A few words and gestures between folks, sure, but no one ever had the nerve or foolishness to reach towards their back pocket. In a funny and sad way, Penelope had experience in handling these sorts of customers and had said so during her interview at the Tavern with Hench. It, along with her body, she suspected, was what got her the job in the first place.

She knew how to serve volatile customers discreetly and politely.

While her outward appearance was always calm, attentive, and neutral, her inward feelings weren't quite always so. As a teenager, Penelope was quite aware of the crimes certain people committed. They ranged, depending on the person, from robbery and assault to rape and, yes, murder. People talked. Tattoos talked. Reputations were well-known.

And that made Penelope tense.

It made Penelope cautious.

Anything outside of a polite civilized interaction always made her alert. Reputation of past deeds were worth something in many senses. The past was the best predictor of the future. So her logic, both in her teens and even now, was simple enough: if they could kill one, they could kill again.

To be truthful, she'd prefer to not be that next kill.

That was why the first four days of traveling, camping, and being near Monkey Fist had made her absolutely exhausted. She had spent all of that awake time, and a bit of her sleep time, tense and alert for Monkey Fist's behavior. While he didn't quite have mood swings, his behavior towards her would oscillate between irritated and displeased. The two moods may not sound far apart, but they were the difference between Penelope being an annoying beetle that got to live and a roach.

Though she didn't know what the monkeys said, she got the impression that they berated him when he was too fierce or too sharp with her. And as if their scolding had worked, he would usually go from a pot boiling over to that of a pot simmering. Still too hot to touch and therefore a danger, yes, but just simmering.

And for fuck's sake, she was _exhausted_ from keeping up with his moods. The travel didn't help any either. The day they had first traveled, she had to walk in her barefeet and in that stupid maid outfit. Needless to say, they didn't get too far before her feet started to bleed.

The next day - day two of her captivity - a monkey ninja returned from somewhere with shoes and clothes for her. She had gladly switched them and tossed the uniform to the bushes when she could. And then they walked further that day. She prompted them to take several breaks between the miles, drawing Monkey Fist's rage each time. It wasn't like she had asked for a break, Miffy had just been attentive and noticed when Penelope's face twisted into one of pain - her feet were still all blistered and cut up in her socks and shoes - and called for a break.

By day three, the same thing happened. If she had to guess, she'd guess they managed ten miles through the wild and thick jungle a day with their frequent breaks. No doubt that had set Monkey Fist back a few days and made him impatient.

They didn't really talk, Penelope and the Villain. It was the brief interactions of thanking him for whatever food they made, him grumbling about losing time from dragging her around, and the occasional warnings he gave her when they crossed a particularly uncertain part of the jungle - some sort of quick sand, snakes, and so forth. Aside from that, he talked mostly with his ninjas and Penelope stayed quiet.

The silence between them made his behavior grate on her even more. While she did recover slightly overnight when they slept, both mentally and physically, it was never enough to fully recover like she had been on the first day. She was certain she smelled, certain she looked like hell, and certain she would be eaten by a python before they reached civilization. Unless the Monkey Master got her first, of course, as his ninjas could only berate their leader so much for her.

It was probably around noon on day four of their travel when something had to change. Tensions and moods were high strung, thick. They had reached a rushing river with some large boulders between one end to the other when it started. At the sight of water, Penelope's mood and heart had lifted. Finally she could bathe!

When she took a step towards it, however, Fist caught her arm. She jumped nearly a foot tall and barely managed to swallow a yell. Instead what left her was a strange noise caught in her throat, something she hoped the noise of the water had covered. Monkey Fist let her go, his eyes unreadable as his expression remained neutral. "What exactly do you think you're doing?" His tone was cold.

Penelope's mouth opened, paused, closed, then opened again as she tried to find the words, "I was...I wanted to...w-we've been traveling so long, I thought a...bath could…" She trailed off, annoyingly aware of where his hand had been as her arm was warm still.

He raised a brow and glanced over to the water. "In this? Are you mad, girl?" He hadn't yet taken to calling her by her name. "There are eels and all sorts of parasites that would harm you if you tried to bathe." His eyes went to the water and she swore she saw a hint of a grin on his face. "That is, of course, if the current doesn't take you first." He then walked towards it. "No," he continued, "we'll be using the rocks to travel across it."

A mixture of disappointment and horror flooded Penelope's system. She tried to pull out whatever bravery she had left to do yet another physically taxing demand, but the idea of being harmed or swept away if she failed was unnerving. Still, half the monkey ninjas went first. Monkey Fist went next. She was expected to go, to hop from rock to rock to rock, before the other half would follow after her.

All she could think about as she got onto the first rock was how tired she was. She took another jump, the second rock. Gods, she wanted to sleep. Another rock. She wanted to bathe. Another rock. Her foot throbbed. Another rock. Her head ached. Another rock. She just wanted to…

She landed on the last rock and started to slip, her footing failing her at the last second. Her arms windmilled comically as she tried to regain her balance. By a bit of luck, she did and with her last bit of energy, she threw herself onto the other side, landing on the hard ground on her knees.

If she could just lay down and sleep right here, perhaps all would prove to be a nightmare when she woke. If she could just lay her head down and recover, perhaps…

A hand grabbed her shoulder. Penelope jumped and, unfortunately, this time she couldn't hold back the yelp. She looked up as she fell backwards onto her ass on the damp ground, the rushing of the water behind her. There were also chatter from the ninjas coming closer.

Monkey Fist stood above her, a mixture of emotion on his face. He simply watched her as she caught her breath, their gaze locking briefly. After what felt like several minutes, he shifted his stance a step away from her. "Can you stand?" He asked in a neutral tone.

She nodded once although, truth be told, she had no idea. When Penelope stood, her legs shook but they held her up. They started to walk slowly, slower than before, into the jungle once more.

Before Penelope could put together a thought, he stopped walking. The monkey ninjas were all gone. He turned slightly to look over his shoulder at her. "We'll set up camp here." Nevermind that it was probably just past noon. "My monkey ninjas are collecting dry wood." He nodded to a rock nearby. "Sit."

Gladly, she obeyed. For several minutes, they stayed still like that, she on the rock and him a few feet away standing. She felt her heart start to calm finally and her head start to clear, allowing thoughts slowly but surely. It was still too early and she too tired when he moved though; on unthinking impulse, Penelope flinched and leaned back when he moved forward. Too late to undo, she instead looked away and straightened herself once more.

He didn't move anymore. Instead, after a minute, he spoke in a quiet tone mingled with agitation, "You are weak." It was as though he were severely disappointed in her, as if she had lied to him somehow.

The statement drew her attention, her eyes raising to meet and hold his unkind gaze. His brows were fixed though as if he were trying to work something out, a puzzle before him. Weak? If she were not so tired, she would have reacted in outrage at such a false statement.

Instead, all she could do in her state was frown. When she spoke, her voice was quiet but strong. "You frighten me." She both confessed and accused. Monkey Fist's brows slowly unfurrowed as he processed the three simple words. When it looked like he understood, she swallowed dryly and added, "I've heard of your reputation. I've heard of how many people you've killed. I've heard to what lengths you'll go to for what you want. I know of your obsession." Up until the last sentence, she had maintained a sort of quiet dignity; the last part, however, she faltered as if she realized she was insulting him in mid-word.

Obsession.

For what is a Villain without an obsession? Certainly not a Villain at all. It was like some horrible riddle, a shitty joke. He didn't seem insulted though. He still had that...caught off guard, taken aback look; he was still working out a puzzle that only he saw.

Her chin was tilted up so she might look up at the towering figure; their stances said so much already, but she continued, "I'm a college student. The longest activity I've ever done was waitressing for two shifts, but that's in a tavern, not a jungle. Even before that, I only ever did track in high school for a couple hours at a time. This?" She shook her head slightly, her dirty hair moving limply with her movement. "You're right. I am weak...compared to you in this jungle. And I know about your anger…" Yes, her source of evidence wasn't talk but experience on that, "and that frightens me...you frighten me...because I am certain you could kill me at any point in this journey." Pause. "I'm waiting on it, actually...as we move slower than...what you would normally do." Without her, that was.

So yes, she was terrified. She was physically and mentally drained and hurting. And the gods damn it, she was scared she may not live through this jungle, be it by venomous snake bite or batty monkey master.

Before he could respond, his ninjas returned with wood and food. She looked away at last and stared at her feet, her hands in her lap. There was a sense of peace she felt at finally telling the man this. Or maybe she was getting sick and becoming delirious. In any case, she embraced this feeling.

Miffy - yes, Miffy, as she had managed to tell her apart from the others - got her attention by gesturing with her hands. She motioned towards a makeshift bed of several large leaves and food near the fire. Monkey Fist wasn't anywhere in the immediate area. Instead of eating before sleeping, however, Penelope pushed herself off the rock and went to the 'bed'. Ignoring Miffy's chatter, she laid down on her side and stared at the fire. It wasn't even dark yet but...she just wanted to sleep.

She just wanted to close her eyes and...she didn't even care if they opened ever again.


	6. Chapter 6

It was dark when she opened her eyes again. The night was black with specks of white stars winking, the trees still other than for a light breeze, and the animals were sleeping. That even included the monkey ninjas.

As Penelope sat up, trying to make sense of it all, she realized that there was one who was not asleep: Monkey Fist. She hesitated even though he obviously had to know she was awake given her movement. He had his eyes closed, his chest moved slowly, but she knew he wasn't asleep. Perhaps he was meditating? She didn't want to break his...whatever it was, but she had to pee.

Biting her bottom lip, she stood slowly and tip-toed towards the edge of their camp. No movement behind her. She couldn't feel his eyes on her just yet. Hoping he wouldn't think she was trying to escape, she carefully stepped into the dark and prayed to whatever gods or goddesses to keep her safe from predators as she took a squat. That'd be a humiliating way to die.

Her prayers were answered. She survived risking her bodily functions in nocturnal nature. When she returned to the fire, she realized just how hungry and thirsty she was. She'd also like a shower, a reminder of how long she'd be without when her filthy hair refused to let go of her neck, but she tried to ignore it.

When she got closer, she became acutely aware of a pair of eyes on her. No matter how much she wished it were Miffy, she knew it wasn't. Her gaze traveled to the man sitting on a nearby rock, his body still but his eyes sharp even in the night.

Neither moved for a moment, taking each other in in silence. Penelope knew she must look a mess even with her clothes covering the bruises his hands had given her. He, however, looked...like he belonged out here. He was also filthy as well, but it suited him somehow.

"There's some fruit and fresh water off to the side of that log there." Monkey Fist broke the silence first, his voice hushed but clear in the still air. "I'm afraid the water is no longer as cool as it was before, but it is safe."

As if given permission to move, Penelope nodded and went to the place he had nodded towards. She ate and drank with relish, her stomach quieting. She sat on the log and stared at the fire as she ate. The weight of his gaze was an on-and-off thing, suggesting he was taking glimpses when he so dared.

When she was satisfied, she looked over at him. Their eyes met. She blinked first and looked away though. While content, she wasn't sleepy yet. "How long was I asleep?" She finally asked, wishing to break the uncomfortable silence.

He didn't answer right away. When he did, he said it was a slight shrug, "Approximately twelve hours." At Penelope's shocked face, he snorted softly. "It would seem that your body required such hours; most do, when they are only accustomed to track and the Tavern."

It wasn't a jab or even a sneer, but...a reassurance? Penelope wasn't sure if that was the right word. It was definitely something positive though and that within itself was startling. She nodded slowly and licked her lips. One good thing about the jungle was that the leaves often acted as sunblock.

They sat together for a few more minutes, each listening to the rustling trees or the snapping logs. Once a monkey ninja had even chattered in their sleep. Something about his positive comment - or the 'not sneering down his nose' comment more appropriately - prompted her to feel the need to talk. "Why are you still awake?"

He raised a slight brow, his cold blue eyes on her. She looked back at the fire. "I couldn't sleep...I was thinking about the journey ahead."

Penelope nodded, unsure if she could say anything to that. No doubt he was calculating how much longer this would take them to get to civilization based on her pace recently. Maybe he was noting the time he had lost because of her. Maybe he was thinking that his need for revenge would be satisfied by leaving her to be eaten by a tiger or something.

Before she could spiral down this way of thinking, he spoke again. "We should have reached a town yesterday."

She tensed slightly. She understood. They would have been there already if it weren't for her. Before she could utter an apology, he continued, "It has been a long time since I've traveled with someone who is not like me." Pause. "It...has been a while since I've talked to someone...instead of ordering them to do my demands."

She tilted her head slightly. What...was he getting at? His eyes remained on the fire. It occurred to her then that despite the warmth from the fire, his blue gaze was still icy. He carried on, "We will be spending an undeterminable amount of time together and, as my ninjas keep reminding me, it would make it more bearable if we...got along. At least civilly, that is."

Penelope didn't respond right away. She was replaying what he had said in her head. By the third time she did, a thought occurred to her. When she spoke, her tone was difficult to decipher and it was soft, "Why won't you let me go?"

This question made his gaze pop over to hers. She didn't flinch or shrink though. She tried to read his eyes, his expression. It was..thoughtful, but she couldn't pick up much more than that. When he spoke, it was with measured words, "I have always believed that there are consequences for our actions. We must live with those consequences, no matter what they are." He held up a hand to stop her from arguing, as if she would, "I am aware of what led to your...action in the tavern," he referenced the henchman, "but if we were able to leave a mess, even if it was an accident, then we do not learn control."

Penelope gave him a puzzled look. Control? She didn't understand. He nodded as if to say that he knew she was lost. He carried on though, going back to his earlier string of comments, "I will...work on being less...frightful in order to make this journey more...bearable...for the both of us." He had looked away once he started. "In return, I have one request."

She raised a brow. Request? What, stop being so weak? Walk more? Be quicker? Don't be so tired? She blinked and once again they were looking at each other. "Work on being less frightened of me." Pause. He struggled with the next words as if translating a different language, "That is to say...you do not...have to think that I will...harm you...at every move." His jaw tensed. Clearly these words, whatever he was trying to make her understand, weren't coming out as they should and were only making things more awkward. "I will not harm you. While you are my prisoner, you are not my punching bag. I am not a brute, but a gentleman still."

Penelope just stared, once again struggling to comprehend what he was saying. This was...very out of character for him, from what she knew. So stunned was she that her jaw had started to hang by itself, giving her a slack-mouthed appearance. When she finally caught herself, she cleared her throat and scratched at the back of her head, ignoring the grime on her hair.

So...he wanted to be...civil. He wanted her to not be so scared of him - no more flinching or cowering when he did nothing more than move quicker than a turtle. Well, she couldn't blame him for that. After all, only a sadist could enjoy such fear. Penelope nodded slowly.

He nodded once in response. "Alright, deal it is then." He stood and, to his pleasure, she didn't flinch; perhaps she was still in shock. In any case, he cleared his throat. "I'll be going to sleep now. I suggest you do the same, if you can. We leave at dawn." Brisk, short, but it was better than the straight-up orders he would once give.

Penelope nodded again but didn't move yet. Instead, after a brief awkward moment of staring at each other, Monkey Fist started towards his spot on the ground. He kept his back to the fire, to her. Within minutes, it looked like he was asleep.

Penelope laid down at her spot as well. Instead of sleeping, however, she stared up at the branches that hid the sky, spotting stars as the leaves shifted in the wind. This...was definitely going to be interesting.


End file.
